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I got out of bed, fluffed my wild hair, and straightened my dress
When I stepped out of the room, he lifted his gaze from the rug, and I forced myself to look at the man.
At the dark circles beneath his eyes.
At the tension in his shoulders.
At the wildness of his hair.
At the way he gripped the vacuum just a little too tightly.
“What are you doing?” I called to him over the sound of the vacuum. He’d stopped moving, but hadn’t turned the machine off, so the thing was probably going to leave a weird patch on the rug if he didn’t move it.
“Vacuuming,” he said, still not moving.
I walked up to him. Leaning over, I studied the machine. When I found the switch, I flipped it, and the noise finally died.
I straightened, and found him staring at me. His gaze was intense… and exhausted.
“Go sit down.” I gestured toward the couch, taking the vacuum’s handle from him.
“I—” he started to say.
My eyes narrowed at him, and he cut himself off.
With a jerk of his head, he made his way to the couch and sat down. Considering it was past dinner time, it was safe to assume he was hungry.
He watched me over his shoulder as I made my way into the kitchen and pulled some burritos from the freezer. I heated them up quickly, then carried the plate to the couch.
When I set it on Archer’s lap and sat down next to him, he glanced down at it with a crease between his brows before looking at me.
“You need to eat,” I said bluntly.
His eyes widened fractionally, and he didn’t hesitate to take a bite.
“Thank you for giving me space.” I turned in my seat, lifting a knee onto the cushion so I could look at him better. “I haven’t really had time to think any of this through since the night we met, so I appreciate it. I don’t like that you’re clearly exhausted, and cleaning instead of sleeping, though.”
He dipped his head, still chewing. “I can’t sleep with a door between us, let alone two.”
“Then you need to tell me that.”
He grimaced. “Alright.”
Shit.
I was already screwing the conversation up.
He took another bite of his food.
“What would the ideal relationship between mates look like to you?” I asked him.
We’d already talked about being friends, but I was pretty sure I’d instigated that conversation. I hadn’t asked him what he wanted, as far as I could remember. And even if I had, it seemed safe to ask again, now that more time had passed.
The question seemed to surprise him.
A moment of silence passed before he swallowed his food and said, “The happiest mated couples I’ve seen are the ones who become friends. They have fun together. They turn to each other when things are easy, and do the same when life gets difficult. They communicate openly. That’s what I’ve always hoped to have with my mate,” Archer explained.
I looked at him again as he took another bite of his food.
